ON FRIENDSHIP

THE augur Quintus Mucius Scaevola used to recount a number of stories

about his father-in-law Galus Laelius, accurately remembered and

charmingly told; and whenever he talked about him always gave him the

title of "the wise" without any hesitation. I had been introduced by my

father to Scaevola as soon as I had assumed the _toga virilis_, and I

took advantage of the introduction never to quit the venerable man's

side as long as I was able to stay and he was spared to us. The

consequence was that I committed to memory many disquisitions of his,

as well as many short pointed apophthegms, and, in short, took as much

advantage of his wisdom as I could. When he died, I attached myself

to Scaevola the Pontifex, whom I may venture to call quite the most

distinguished of our countrymen for ability and uprightness. But of this

latter I shall take other occasions to speak. To return to Scaevola the

augur. Among many other occasions I particularly remember one. He was

sitting on a semicircular garden-bench, as was his custom, when I and

a very few intimate friends were there, and he chanced to turn the

conversation upon a subject which about that time was in many people's

mouths. You must remember, Atticus, for you were very intimate

with Publius Sulpicius, what expressions of astonishment, or even

indignation, were called forth by his mortal quarrel, as tribune, with

the consul Quintus Pompeius, with whom he had formerly lived on terms of

the closest intimacy and affection. Well, on this occasion, happening

to mention this particular circumstance, Scaevola detailed to us a

discourse of Laelius on friendship delivered to himself and Laelius's

other son-in-law Galus Fannius, son of Marcus Fannius, a few days after

the death of Africanus. The points of that discussion I committed to

memory, and have arranged them in this book at my own discretion. For

I have brought the speakers, as it were, personally on to my stage to

prevent the constant "said I" and "said he" of a narrative, and to give

the discourse the air of being orally delivered in our hearing.

You have often urged me to write something on Friendship, and I

quite acknowledged that the subject seemed one worth everybody's

investigation, and specially suited to the close intimacy that has

existed between you and me. Accordingly I was quite ready to benefit the

public at your request.

As to the _dramatis personae_. In the treatise on Old Age, which I

dedicated to you, I introduced Cato as chief speaker. No one, I thought,

could with greater propriety speak on old age than one who had been an

old man longer than any one else, and had been exceptionally vigorous

in his old age. Similarly, having learnt from tradition that of all

friendships that between Gaius Laelius and Publius Scipio was the most

remarkable, I thought Laelius was just the person to support the chief

part in a discussion on friendship which Scaevola remembered him to have

actually taken. Moreover, a discussion of this sort gains somehow in

weight from the authority of men of ancient days, especially if they

happen to have been distinguished. So it comes about that in reading

over what I have myself written I have a feeling at times that it is

actually Cato that is speaking, not I.

Finally, as I sent the former essay to you as a gift from one old man to

another, so I have dedicated this _On Friendship_ as a most affectionate

friend to his friend. In the former Cato spoke, who was the oldest and

wisest man of his day; in this Laelius speaks on friendship--Laelius,

who was at once a wise man (that was the title given him) and eminent

for his famous friendship. Please forget me for a while; imagine Laelius

to be speaking.

Gaius Fannius and Quintus Mucius come to call on their father-in-law

after the death of Africanus. They start the subject; Laelius answers

them. And the whole essay on friendship is his. In reading it you will

recognise a picture of yourself.

2. _Fannius_. You are quite right, Laelius! there never was a better or

more illustrious character than Africanus. But you should consider that

at the present moment all eyes are on you. Everybody calls you "the

wise" _par excellence_, and thinks you so. The same mark of respect was

lately paid Cato, and we know that in the last generation Lucius Atilius

was called "the wise." But in both cases the word was applied with

a certain difference. Atilius was so called from his reputation as a

jurist; Cato got the name as a kind of honorary title and in extreme old

age because of his varied experience of affairs, and his reputation

for foresight and firmness, and the sagacity of the opinions which he

delivered in senate and forum. You, however, are regarded as wise in

a somewhat different sense not alone on account of natural ability and

character, but also from your industry and learning; and not in the

sense in which the vulgar, but that in which scholars, give that title.

In this sense we do not read of any one being called wise in Greece

except one man at Athens; and he, to be sure, had been declared by the

oracle of Apollo also to be "the supremely wise man." For those who

commonly go by the name of the Seven Sages are not admitted into the

category of the wise by fastidious critics. Your wisdom people believe

to consist in this, that you look upon yourself as self-sufficing and

regard the changes and chances of mortal life as powerless to affect

your virtue. Accordingly they are always asking me, and doubtless also

our Scaevola here, how you bear the death of Africanus. This curiosity

has been the more excited from the fact that on the Nones of this month,

when we augurs met as usual in the suburban villa of Decimus Brutus for

consultation, you were not present, though it had always been your

habit to keep that appointment and perform that duty with the utmost

punctuality.

_Scaevola_. Yes, indeed, Laelius, I am often asked the question

mentioned by Fannius. But I answer in accordance with what I have

observed: I say that you bear in a reasonable manner the grief which

you have sustained in the death of one who was at once a man of the most

illustrious character and a very dear friend. That of course you could

not but be affected--anything else would have been wholly unnatural in a

man of your gentle nature--but that the cause of your non-attendance at

our college meeting was illness, not melancholy.

_Laelius_. Thanks, Scaevola! You are quite right; you spoke the exact

truth. For in fact I had no right to allow myself to be withdrawn from

a duty which I had regularly performed, as long as I was well, by any

personal misfortune; nor do I think that anything that can happen will

cause a man of principle to intermit a duty. As for your telling me,

Fannius, of the honourable appellation given me (an appellation to

which I do not recognise my title, and to which I make no claim), you

doubtless act from feelings of affection; but I must say that you seem

to me to do less than justice to Cato. If any one was ever "wise,"--of

which I have my doubts,--he was. Putting aside everything else, consider

how he bore his son's death! I had not forgotten Paulus; I had seen with

my own eyes Gallus. But they lost their sons when mere children; Cato

his when he was a full-grown man with an assured reputation. Do not

therefore be in a hurry to reckon as Cato's superior even that same

famous personage whom Apollo, as you say, declared to be "the wisest."

Remember the former's reputation rests on deeds, the latter's on words.

3. Now, as far as I am concerned (I speak to both of you now), believe

me the case stands thus. If I were to say that I am not affected by

regret for Scipio, I must leave the philosophers to justify my conduct,

but in point of fact I should be telling a lie. Affected of course I am

by the loss of a friend as I think there will never be again, such as

I can fearlessly say there never was before. But I stand in no need of

medicine. I can find my own consolation, and it consists chiefly in my

being free from the mistaken notion which generally causes pain at the

departure of friends. To Scipio I am convinced no evil has befallen: mine

is the disaster, if disaster there be; and to be severely distressed at

one's own misfortunes does not show that you love your friend, but that

you love yourself.

As for him, who can say that all is not more than well? For, unless he

had taken the fancy to wish for immortality, the last thing of which he

ever thought, what is there for which mortal man may wish that he did

not attain? In his early manhood he more than justified by extraordinary

personal courage the hopes which his fellow-citizens had conceived of

him as a child. He never was a candidate for the consulship, yet was

elected consul twice: the first time before the legal age; the second at

a time which, as far as he was concerned, was soon enough, but was near

being too late for the interests of the State. By the overthrow of two

cities which were the most bitter enemies of our Empire, he put an end

not only to the wars then raging, but also to the possibility of others

in the future. What need to mention the exquisite grace of his manners,

his dutiful devotion to his mother, his generosity to his sisters, his

liberality to his relations, the integrity of his conduct to every

one? You know all this already. Finally, the estimation in which his

fellow-citizens held him has been shown by the signs of mourning which

accompanied his obsequies. What could such a man have gained by the

addition of a few years? Though age need not be a burden,--as I remember

Cato arguing in the presence of myself and Scipio two years before he

died,--yet it cannot but take away the vigour and freshness which Scipio

was still enjoying. We may conclude therefore that his life, from the

good fortune which had attended him and the glory he had obtained, was

so circumstanced that it could not be bettered, while the suddenness

of his death saved him the sensation of dying. As to the manner of his

death it is difficult to speak; you see what people suspect. Thus much,

however, I may say: Scipio in his lifetime saw many days of supreme

triumph and exultation, but none more magnificent than his last, on

which, upon the rising of the Senate, he was escorted by the senators

and the people of Rome, by the allies, and by the Latins, to his own

door. From such an elevation of popular esteem the next step seems

naturally to be an ascent to the gods above, rather than a descent to

Hades.

4. For I am not one of these modern philosophers who maintain that our

souls perish with our bodies, and that death ends all. With me ancient

opinion has more weight: whether it be that of our own ancestors, who

attributed such solemn observances to the dead, as they plainly would

not have done if they had believed them to be wholly annihilated; or

that of the philosophers who once visited this country, and who by their

maxims and doctrines educated Magna Graecia, which at that time was in a

flourishing condition, though it has now been ruined; or that of the man

who was declared by Apollo's oracle to be "most wise," and who used to

teach without the variation which is to be found in most philosophers

that "the souls of men are divine, and that when they have quitted the

body a return to heaven is open to them, least difficult to those who

have been most virtuous and just." This opinion was shared by Scipio.

Only a few days before his death--as though he had a presentiment

of what was coming--he discoursed for three days on the state of the

republic. The company consisted of Philus and Manlius and several

others, and I had brought you, Scaevola, along with me. The last part of

his discourse referred principally to the immortality of the soul; for

he told us what he had heard from the elder Africanus in a dream. Now if

it be true that in proportion to a man's goodness the escape from what

may be called the prison and bonds of the flesh is easiest, whom can

we imagine to have had an easier voyage to the gods than Scipio? I am

disposed to think, therefore, that in his case mourning would be a sign

of envy rather than of friendship. If, however, the truth rather is that

the body and soul perish together, and that no sensation remains, then

though there is nothing good in death, at least there is nothing bad.

Remove sensation, and a man is exactly as though he had never been born;

and yet that this man was born is a joy to me, and will be a subject of

rejoicing to this State to its last hour.

Wherefore, as I said before, all is as well as possible with him. Not so

with me; for as I entered life before him, it would have been fairer

for me to leave it also before him. Yet such is the pleasure I take

in recalling our friendship, that I look upon my life as having been a

happy one because I have spent it with Scipio. With him I was associated

in public and private business; with him I lived in Rome and served

abroad; and between us there was the most complete harmony in our

tastes, our pursuits, and our sentiments, which is the true secret of

friendship. It is not therefore in that reputation for wisdom mentioned

just now by Fannius--especially as it happens to be groundless--that

I find my happiness so much, as in the hope that the memory of our

friendship will be lasting. What makes me care the more about this is

the fact that in all history there are scarcely three or four pairs of

friends on record; and it is classed with them that I cherish a hope of

the friendship of Scipio and Laelius being known to posterity.

_Fannius_. Of course that must be so, Laelius. But since you have

mentioned the word friendship, and we are at leisure, you would be doing

me a great kindness, and I expect Scaevola also, if you would do as it

is your habit to do when asked questions on other subjects, and tell

us your sentiments about friendship, its nature, and the rules to be

observed in regard to it.

_Scaevola_. I shall of course be delighted. Fannius has anticipated the

very request I was about to make. So you will be doing us both a great

favour.

5. _Laelius_. I should certainly have no objection if I felt confidence

in myself. For the theme is a noble one, and we are (as Fannius has

said) at leisure. But who am I? and what ability have I? What you

propose is all very well for professional philosophers, who are used,

particularly if Greeks, to have the subject for discussion proposed to

them on the spur of the moment. It is a task of considerable difficulty,

and requires no little practice. Therefore for a set discourse on

friendship you must go, I think, to professional lecturers. All I can

do is to urge on you to regard friendship as the greatest thing in the

world; for there is nothing which so fits in with our nature, or is so

exactly what we want in prosperity or adversity.

But I must at the very beginning lay down this principle--_friendship

can only exist between good men_. I do not, however, press this

too closely, like the philosophers who push their definitions to a

superfluous accuracy. They have truth on their side, perhaps, but it is

of no practical advantage. Those, I mean, who say that no one but the

"wise" is "good." Granted, by all means. But the "wisdom" they mean is

one to which no mortal ever yet attained. We must concern ourselves

with the facts of everyday life as we find it--not imaginary and

ideal perfections. Even Gaius Fannius, Manius Curius, and Tiberius

Coruncanius, whom our ancestors decided to be "wise," I could never

declare to be so according to their standard. Let them, then, keep

this word "wisdom" to themselves. Everybody is irritated by it; no one

understands what it means. Let them but grant that the men I mentioned

were "good." No, they won't do that either. No one but the "wise" can be

allowed that title, say they. Well, then, let us dismiss them and manage

as best we may with our own poor mother wit, as the phrase is.

We mean then by the "good" _those whose actions and lives leave no

question as to their honour, purity, equity, and liberality; who are

free from greed, lust, and violence; and who have the courage of their

convictions_. The men I have just named may serve as examples. Such men

as these being generally accounted "good," let us agree to call them so,

on the ground that to the best of human ability they follow nature as

the most perfect guide to a good life.

Now this truth seems clear to me, that nature has so formed us that

a certain tie unites us all, but that this tie becomes stronger from

proximity. So it is that fellow-citizens are preferred in our affections

to foreigners, relations to strangers; for in their case Nature herself

has caused a kind of friendship to exist, though it is one which lacks

some of the elements of permanence. Friendship excels relationship in

this, that whereas you may eliminate affection from relationship, you

cannot do so from friendship. Without it relationship still exists in

name, friendship does not. You may best understand this friendship by

considering that, whereas the merely natural ties uniting the human race

are indefinite, this one is so concentrated, and confined to so narrow a

sphere, that affection is ever shared by two persons only or at most by

a few.

6. Now friendship may be thus defined: a complete accord on all subjects

human and divine, joined with mutual goodwill and affection. And with

the exception of wisdom, I am inclined to think nothing better than this

has been given to man by the immortal gods. There are people who give

the palm to riches or to good health, or to power and office, many even

to sensual pleasures. This last is the ideal of brute beasts; and of the

others we may say that they are frail and uncertain, and depend less on

our own prudence than on the caprice of fortune. Then there are those

who find the "chief good" in virtue. Well, that is a noble doctrine. But

the very virtue they talk of is the parent and preserver of friendship,

and without it friendship cannot possibly exist.

Let us, I repeat, use the word virtue in the ordinary acceptation and

meaning of the term, and do not let us define it in high-flown language.

Let us account as good the persons usually considered so, such as

Paulus, Cato, Gallus, Scipio, and Philus. Such men as these are good

enough for everyday life; and we need not trouble ourselves about those

ideal characters which are nowhere to be met with.

Well, between men like these the advantages of friendship are almost

more than I can say. To begin with, how can life be worth living, to use

the words of Ennius, which lacks that repose which is to be found in the

mutual good-will of a friend? What can be more delightful than to

have some one to whom you can say everything with the same absolute

confidence as to yourself? Is not prosperity robbed of half its value if

you have no one to share your joy? On the other hand, misfortunes

would be hard to bear if there were not some one to feel them even more

acutely than yourself. In a word, other objects of ambition serve for

particular ends--riches for use, power for securing homage, office for

reputation, pleasure for enjoyment, health for freedom from pain and

the full use of the functions of the body. But friendship embraces

innumerable advantages. Turn which way you please, you will find it at

hand. It is everywhere; and yet never out of place, never unwelcome.

Fire and water themselves, to use a common expression, are not of more

universal use than friendship. I am not now speaking of the common

or modified form of it, though even that is a source of pleasure and

profit, but of that true and complete friendship which existed

between the select few who are known to fame. Such friendship enhances

prosperity, and relieves adversity of its burden by halving and sharing

it.

7. And great and numerous as are the blessings of friendship, this

certainly is the sovereign one, that it gives us bright hopes for the

future and forbids weakness and despair. In the face of a true friend a

man sees as it were a second self. So that where his friend is he is;

if his friend be rich, he is not poor; though he be weak, his friend's

strength is his; and in his friend's life he enjoys a second life

after his own is finished. This last is perhaps the most difficult to

conceive. But such is the effect of the respect, the loving remembrance,

and the regret of friends which follow us to the grave. While they take

the sting out of death, they add a glory to the life of the survivors.

Nay, if you eliminate from nature the tie of affection, there will be an

end of house and city, nor will so much as the cultivation of the soil

be left. If you don't see the virtue of friendship and harmony, you may

learn it by observing the effects of quarrels and feuds. Was any family

ever so well established, any State so firmly settled, as to be beyond

the reach of utter destruction from animosities and factions? This may

teach you the immense advantage of friendship.

They say that a certain philosopher of Agrigentum, in a Greek poem,

pronounced with the authority of an oracle the doctrine that whatever in

nature and the universe was unchangeable was so in virtue of the binding

force of friendship; whatever was changeable was so by the solvent power

of discord. And indeed this is a truth which everybody understands and

practically attests by experience. For if any marked instance of loyal

friendship in confronting or sharing danger comes to light, every one

applauds it to the echo. What cheers there were, for instance, all

over the theatre at a passage in the new play of my friend and guest

Pacuvius; where the king, not knowing which of the two was Orestes,

Pylades declared himself to be Orestes, that he might die in his stead,

while the real Orestes kept on asserting that it was he. The audience

rose _en masse_ and clapped their hands. And this was at an incident in

fiction: what would they have done, must we suppose, if it had been in

real life? You can easily see what a natural feeling it is, when men

who would not have had the resolution to act thus themselves, shewed how

right they thought it in another.

I don't think I have any more to say about friendship. If there is any

more, and I have no doubt there is much, you must, if you care to do so,

consult those who profess to discuss such matters.

_Fannius_. We would rather apply to you. Yet I have often consulted

such persons, and have heard what they had to say with a certain

satisfaction. But in your discourse one somehow feels that there is a

different strain.

_Scaevola_. You would have said that still more, Fannius, if you had

been present the other day in Scipio's pleasure-grounds when we had

the discussion about the State. How splendidly he stood up for justice

against Philus's elaborate speech.

_Fannius_. Ah! it was naturally easy for the justest of men to stand up

for justice.

_Scaevola_. Well, then, what about friendship? Who could discourse on

it more easily than the man whose chief glory is a friendship maintained

with the most absolute fidelity, constancy, and integrity?

8. _Laclius_. Now you are really using force. It makes no difference

what kind of force you use: force it is. For it is neither easy nor

right to refuse a wish of my sons-in-law, particularly when the wish is

a creditable one in itself.

Well, then, it has very often occurred to me when thinking about

friendship, that the chief point to be considered was this: is it

weakness and want of means that make friendship desired? I mean, is its

object an interchange of good offices, so that each may give that in

which he is strong, and receive that in which he is weak? Or is it not

rather true that, although this is an advantage naturally belonging to

friendship, yet its original cause is quite other, prior in time, more

noble in character, and springing more directly from our nature itself?

The Latin word for friendship--_amicitia_--is derived from that for

love--_amor_; and love is certainly the prime mover in contracting

mutual affection. For as to material advantages, it often happens

that those are obtained even by men who are courted by a mere show

of friendship and treated with respect from interested motives. But

friendship by its nature admits of no feigning, no pretence: as far

as it goes it is both genuine and spontaneous. Therefore I gather that

friendship springs from a natural impulse rather than a wish for help:

from an inclination of the heart, combined with a certain instinctive

feeling of love, rather than from a deliberate calculation of the

material advantage it was likely to confer. The strength of this

feeling you may notice in certain animals. They show such love to their

offspring for a certain period, and are so beloved by them, that they

clearly have a share in this natural, instinctive affection. But of

course it is more evident in the case of man: first, in the natural

affection between children and their parents, an affection which only

shocking wickedness can sunder; and next, when the passion of love has

attained to a like strength--on our finding, that is, some one person

with whose character and nature we are in full sympathy, because we

think that we perceive in him what I may call the beacon-light of

virtue. For nothing inspires love, nothing conciliates affection, like

virtue. Why, in a certain sense we may be said to feel affection even

for men we have never seen, owing to their honesty and virtue. Who, for

instance, fails to dwell on the memory of Gaius Fabricius and Manius

Curius with some affection and warmth of feeling, though he has never

seen them? Or who but loathes Tarquinius Superbus, Spurius Cassius,

Spurius Maelius? We have fought for empire in Italy with two great

generals, Pyrrhus and Hannibal. For the former, owing to his probity, we

entertain no great feelings of enmity: the latter, owing to his cruelty,

our country has detested and always will detest.

9. Now, if the attraction of probity is so great that we can love it not

only in those whom we have never seen, but, what is more, actually in an

enemy, we need not be surprised if men's affections are roused when they

fancy that they have seen virtue and goodness in those with whom a close

intimacy is possible. I do not deny that affection is strengthened by

the actual receipt of benefits, as well as by the perception of a wish

to render service, combined with a closer intercourse. When these are

added to the original impulse of the heart, to which I have alluded,

a quite surprising warmth of feeling springs up. And if any one thinks

that this comes from a sense of weakness, that each may have some one

to help him to his particular need, all I can say is that, when he

maintains it to be born of want and poverty, he allows to friendship an

origin very base, and a pedigree, if I may be allowed the expression,

far from noble. If this had been the case, a man's inclination to

friendship would be exactly in proportion to his low opinion of his own

resources. Whereas the truth is quite the other way. For when a man's

confidence in himself is greatest, when he is so fortified by virtue and

wisdom as to want nothing and to feel absolutely self-dependent, it

is then that he is most conspicuous for seeking out and keeping up

friendships. Did Africanus, for example, want anything of me? Not

the least in the world! Neither did I of him. In my case it was

an admiration of his virtue, in his an opinion, may be, which he

entertained of my character, that caused our affection. Closer intimacy

added to the warmth of our feelings. But though many great material

advantages did ensue, they were not the source from which our affection

proceeded. For as we are not beneficent and liberal with any view

of extorting gratitude, and do not regard an act of kindness as an

investment, but follow a natural inclination to liberality; so we look

on friendship as worth trying for, not because we are attracted to it by

the expectation of ulterior gain, but in the conviction that what it has

to give us is from first to last included in the feeling itself.

Far different is the view of those who, like brute beasts, refer

everything to sensual pleasure. And no wonder. Men who have degraded

all their powers of thought to an object so mean and contemptible can of

course raise their eyes to nothing lofty, to nothing grand and divine.

Such persons indeed let us leave out of the present question. And let

us accept the doctrine that the sensation of love and the warmth of

inclination have their origin in a spontaneous feeling which arises

directly the presence of probity is indicated. When once men have

conceived the inclination, they of course try to attach themselves to

the object of it, and move themselves nearer and nearer to him. Their

aim is that they may be on the same footing and the same level in regard

to affection, and be more inclined to do a good service than to ask a

return, and that there should be this noble rivalry between them.

Thus both truths will be established. We shall get the most important

material advantages from friendship; and its origin from a natural

impulse rather than from a sense of need will be at once more dignified

and more in accordance with fact. For if it were true that its material

advantages cemented friendship, it would be equally true that any change

in them would dissolve it. But nature being incapable of change, it

follows that genuine friendships are eternal.

So much for the origin of friendship. But perhaps you would not care to

hear any more.

_Fannius_. Nay, pray go on; let us have the rest, Laelius. I take on

myself to speak for my friend here as his senior.

_Scaevola_. Quite right! Therefore, pray let us hear.

10. _Loelius_. Well, then, my good friends, listen to some conversations

about friendship which very frequently passed between Scipio and myself.

I must begin by telling you, however, that he used to say that the most

difficult thing in the world was for a friendship to remain unimpaired

to the end of life. So many things might intervene: conflicting

interests; differences of opinion in politics; frequent changes in

character, owing sometimes to misfortunes, sometimes to advancing years.

He used to illustrate these facts from the analogy of boyhood, since

the warmest affections between boys are often laid aside with the boyish

toga; and even if they did manage to keep them up to adolescence, they

were sometimes broken by a rivalry in courtship, or for some other

advantage to which their mutual claims were not compatible. Even if the

friendship was prolonged beyond that time, yet it frequently received a

rude shock should the two happen to be competitors for office. For while

the most fatal blow to friendship in the majority of cases was the lust

of gold, in the case of the best men it was a rivalry for office and

reputation, by which it had often happened that the most violent enmity

had arisen between the closest friends.

Again, wide breaches and, for the most part, justifiable ones were

caused by an immoral request being made of friends, to pander to a man's

unholy desires or to assist him in inflicting a wrong. A refusal, though

perfectly right, is attacked by those to whom they refuse compliance

as a violation of the laws of friendship. Now the people who have no

scruples as to the requests they make to their friends, thereby allow

that they are ready to have no scruples as to what they will do for

their friends; and it is the recriminations of such people which

commonly not only quench friendships, but give rise to lasting enmities.

"In fact," he used to say, "these fatalities overhang friendship in such

numbers that it requires not only wisdom but good luck also to escape

them all."

11. With these premises, then, let us first, if you please, examine

the question--how far ought personal feeling to go in friendship? For

instance: suppose Coriolanus to have had friends, ought they to have

joined him in invading his country? Again, in the case of Vecellinus

or Spurius Maelius, ought their friends to have assisted them in their

attempt to establish a tyranny? Take two instances of either line of

conduct. When Tiberius Gracchus attempted his revolutionary measures he

was deserted, as we saw, by Quintus Tubero and the friends of his own

standing. On the other hand, a friend of your own family, Scaevola,

Gaius Blossius of Cumae, took a different course. I was acting as

assessor to the consuls Laenas and Rupilius to try the conspirators,

and Blossius pleaded for my pardon on the ground that his regard for

Tiberius Gracchus had been so high that he looked upon his wishes as

law. "Even if he had wished you to set fire to the Capitol?" said I.

"That is a thing," he replied, "that he never would have wished." "Ah,

but if he had wished it?" said I. "I would have obeyed." The wickedness

of such a speech needs no comment. And in point of fact he was as good

and better than his word for he did not wait for orders in the audacious

proceedings of Tiberius Gracchus, but was the head and front of them,

and was a leader rather than an abettor of his madness. The result

of his infatuation was that he fled to Asia, terrified by the special

commission appointed to try him, joined the enemies of his country, and

paid a penalty to the republic as heavy as it was deserved. I conclude,

then, that the plea of having acted in the interests of a friend is not

a valid excuse for a wrong action. For, seeing that a belief in a man's

virtue is the original cause of friendship, friendship can hardly remain

if virtue he abandoned. But if we decide it to be right to grant our

friends whatever they wish, and to ask them for whatever we wish,

perfect wisdom must be assumed on both sides if no mischief is to

happen. But we cannot assume this perfect wisdom; for we are speaking

only of such friends as are ordinarily to be met with, whether we have

actually seen them or have been told about them--men, that is to say, of

everyday life. I must quote some examples of such persons, taking care

to select such as approach nearest to our standard of wisdom. We read,

for instance, that Papus Aemilius was a close friend of Gaius Luscinus.

History tells us that they were twice consuls together, and colleagues

in the censorship. Again, it is on record that Manius Curius and

Tiberius Coruncanius were on the most intimate terms with them and with

each other. Now, we cannot even suspect that any one of these men ever

asked of his friend anything that militated against his honour or his

oath or the interests of the republic. In the case of such men as these

there is no point in saying that one of them would not have obtained

such a request if he had made it; for they were men of the most

scrupulous piety, and the making of such a request would involve a

breach of religious obligation no less than the granting it. However,

it is quite true that Gaius Carbo and Gaius Cato did follow Tiberius

Gracchus; and though his brother Caius Gracchus did not do so at the

time, he is now the most eager of them all.

12. We may then lay down this rule of friendship--neither ask nor

consent to do what is wrong. For the plea "for friendship's sake" is a

discreditable one, and not to be admitted for a moment. This rule

holds good for all wrong-doing, but more especially in such as involves

disloyalty to the republic. For things have come to such a point with

us, my dear Fannius and Scaevola, that we are bound to look somewhat far

ahead to what is likely to happen to the republic. The constitution, as

known to our ancestors, has already swerved somewhat from the regular

course and the lines marked out for it. Tiberius Gracchus made an

attempt to obtain the power of a king, or, I might rather say, enjoyed

that power for a few months. Had the Roman people ever heard or seen

the like before? What the friends and connexions that followed him, even

after his death, have succeeded in doing in the case of Publius Scipio

I cannot describe without tears. As for Carbo, thanks to the punishment

recently inflicted on Tiberius Gracchus, we have by hook or by crook

managed to hold out against his attacks. But what to expect of the

tribuneship of Caius Gracchus I do not like to forecast. One thing

leads to another; and once set going, the downward course proceeds with

ever-increasing velocity. There is the case of the ballot: what a blow

was inflicted first by the lex Gabinia, and two years afterwards by the

lex Cassia! I seem already to see the people estranged from the Senate,

and the most important affairs at the mercy of the multitude. For you

may be sure that more people will learn how to set such things in motion

than how to stop them. What is the point of these remarks? This: no one

ever makes any attempt of this sort without friends to help him. We

must therefore impress upon good men that, should they become inevitably

involved in friendships with men of this kind, they ought not to

consider themselves under any obligation to stand by friends who are

disloyal to the republic. Bad men must have the fear of punishment

before their eyes: a punishment not less severe for those who follow

than for those who lead others to crime. Who was more famous and

powerful in Greece than Themistocles? At the head of the army in the

Persian war he had freed Greece; he owed his exile to personal envy: but

he did not submit to the wrong done him by his ungrateful country as

he ought to have done. He acted as Coriolanus had acted among us twenty

years before. But no one was found to help them in their attacks upon

their fatherland. Both of them accordingly committed suicide.

We conclude, then, not only that no such confederation of evilly

disposed men must be allowed to shelter itself under the plea of

friendship, but that, on the contrary, it must be visited with the

severest punishment, lest the idea should prevail that fidelity to a

friend justifies even making war upon one's country. And this is a case

which I am inclined to think, considering how things are beginning to

go, will sooner or later arise. And I care quite as much what the state

of the constitution will be after my death as what it is now.

13. Let this, then, be laid down as the first law of friendship, that

_we should ask from friends, and do for friends', only what is good_.

But do not let us wait to be asked either: let there be ever an eager

readiness, and an absence of hesitation. Let us have the courage to give

advice with candour. In friendship, let the influence of friends who

give good advice be paramount; and let this influence be used to enforce

advice not only in plain-spoken terms, but sometimes, if the case

demands it, with sharpness; and when so used, let it be obeyed.

I give you these rules because I believe that some wonderful opinions

are entertained by certain persons who have, I am told, a reputation for

wisdom in Greece. There is nothing in the world, by the way, beyond the

reach of their sophistry. Well, some of them teach that we should avoid

very close friendships, for fear that one man should have to endure the

anxieties of several. Each man, say they, has enough and to spare on his

own hands; it is too bad to be involved in the cares of other people.

The wisest course is to hold the reins of friendship as loose as

possible; you can then tighten or slacken them at your will. For the

first condition of a happy life is freedom from care, which no one's

mind can enjoy if it has to travail, so to speak, for others besides

itself. Another sect, I am told, gives vent to opinions still less

generous. I briefly touched on this subject just now. They affirm that

friendships should be sought solely for the sake of the assistance they

give, and not at all from motives of feeling and affection; and that

therefore just in proportion as a man's power and means of support are

lowest, he is most eager to gain friendships: thence it comes that weak

women seek the support of friendship more than men, the poor more than

the rich, the unfortunate rather than those esteemed prosperous. What

noble philosophy! You might just as well take the sun out of the sky as

friendship from life; for the immortal gods have given us nothing better

or more delightful.

But let us examine the two doctrines. What is the value of this

"freedom from care"? It is very tempting at first sight, but in practice

it has in many cases to be put on one side. For there is no business

and no course of action demanded from us by our honour which you can

consistently decline, or lay aside when begun, from a mere wish to

escape from anxiety. Nay, if we wish to avoid anxiety we must avoid

virtue itself, which necessarily involves some anxious thoughts in

showing its loathing and abhorrence for the qualities which are opposite

to itself--as kindness for ill-nature, self-control for licentiousness,

courage for cowardice. Thus you may notice that it is the just who are

most pained at injustice, the brave at cowardly actions, the temperate

at depravity. It is then characteristic of a rightly ordered mind to be

pleased at what is good and grieved at the reverse. Seeing then that the

wise are not exempt from the heart-ache (which must be the case unless

we suppose all human nature rooted out of their hearts), why should we

banish friendship from our lives, for fear of being involved by it

in some amount of distress? If you take away emotion, what difference

remains I don't say between a man and a beast, but between a man and a

stone or a log of wood, or anything else of that kind?

Neither should we give any weight to the doctrine that virtue is

something rigid and unyielding as iron. In point of fact it is in regard

to friendship, as in so many other things, so supple and sensitive that

it expands, so to speak, at a friend's good fortune, contracts at his

misfortunes. We conclude then that mental pain which we must often

encounter on a friend's account is not of sufficient consequence to

banish friendship from our life, any more than it is true that the

cardinal virtues are to be dispensed with because they involve certain

anxieties and distresses.

14. Let me repeat then, "the clear indication of virtue, to which a

mind of like character is naturally attracted, is the beginning of

friendship." When that is the case the rise of affection is a necessity.

For what can be more irrational than to take delight in many objects

incapable of response, such as office, fame, splendid buildings, and

personal decoration, and yet to take little or none in a sentient being

endowed with virtue, which has the faculty of loving or, if I may use

the expression, loving back? For nothing is really more delightful than

a return of affection, and the mutual interchange of kind feeling

and good offices. And if we add, as we may fairly do, that nothing so

powerfully attracts and draws one thing to itself as likeness does to

friendship, it will at once be admitted to be true that the good love

the good and attach them to themselves as though they were united by

blood and nature. For nothing can be more eager, or rather greedy, for

what is like itself than nature. So, my dear Fannius and Scaevola, we

may look upon this as an established fact, that between good men there

is, as it were of necessity, a kindly feeling, which is the source of

friendship ordained by nature. But this same kindliness affects the many

also. For that is no unsympathetic or selfish or exclusive virtue, which

protects even whole nations and consults their best interests. And that

certainly it would not have done had it disdained all affection for the

common herd.

Again, the believers in the "interest" theory appear to me to destroy

the most attractive link in the chain of friendship. For it is not so

much what one gets by a friend that gives one pleasure, as the warmth

of his feeling; and we only care for a friend's service if it has been

prompted by affection. And so far from its being true that lack of means

is a motive for seeking friendship, it is usually those who being most

richly endowed with wealth and means, and above all with virtue (which,

after all, is a man's best support), are least in need of another, that

are most openhanded and beneficent. Indeed I am inclined to think that

friends ought at times to be in want of something. For instance, what

scope would my affections have had if Scipio had never wanted my advice

or co-operation at home or abroad? It is not friendship, then, that

follows material advantage, but material advantage friendship.

15. We must not therefore listen to these superfine gentlemen when they

talk of friendship, which they know neither in theory nor in practice.

For who, in heaven's name, would choose a life of the greatest wealth

and abundance on condition of neither loving or being beloved by any

creature? That is the sort of life tyrants endure. They, of course, can

count on no fidelity, no affection, no security for the goodwill of

any one. For them all is suspicion and anxiety; for them there is no

possibility of friendship. Who can love one whom he fears, or by whom he

knows that he is feared? Yet such men have a show of friendship offered

them, but it is only a fair-weather show. If it ever happen that they

fall, as it generally does, they will at once understand how friendless

they are. So they say Tarquin observed in his exile that he never knew

which of his friends were real and which sham, until he had ceased to

be able to repay either. Though what surprises me is that a man of his

proud and overbearing character should have a friend at all. And as it

was his character that prevented his having genuine friends, so it often

happens in the case of men of unusually great means--their very wealth

forbids faithful friendships. For not only is Fortune blind herself;

but she generally makes those blind also who enjoy her favours. They are

carried, so to speak, beyond themselves with self-conceit and self-will;

nor can anything be more perfectly intolerable than a successful fool.

You may often see it. Men who before had pleasant manners enough undergo

a complete change on attaining power of office. They despise their old

friends: devote themselves to new.

Now, can anything be more foolish than that men who have all the

opportunities which prosperity, wealth, and great means can bestow,

should secure all else which money can buy--horses, servants, splendid

upholstering, and costly plate--but do not secure friends, who are, if

I may use the expression, the most valuable and beautiful furniture

of life? And yet, when they acquire the former, they know not who will

enjoy them, nor for whom they may be taking all this trouble; for they

will one and all eventually belong to the strongest: while each man has

a stable and inalienable ownership in his friendships. And even if those

possessions, which are, in a manner, the gifts of fortune, do prove

permanent, life can never be anything but joyless which is without the

consolations and companionship of friends.

16. To turn to another branch of our subject. We must now endeavour

to ascertain what limits are to be observed in friendship--what is the

boundary-line, so to speak, beyond which our affection is not to go. On

this point I notice three opinions, with none of which I agree. One is

_that we should love our friend just as much as we love ourselves, and

no more; another, that our affection to them should exactly correspond

and equal theirs to us; a third, that a man should be valued at exactly

the same rate as he values himself_. To not one of these opinions do I

assent. The first, which holds that our regard for ourselves is to be

the measure of our regard for our friend, is not true; for how many

things there are which we would never have done for our own sakes, but

do for the sake of a friend! We submit to make requests from unworthy

people, to descend even to supplication; to be sharper in invective,

more violent in attack. Such actions are not creditable in our own

interests, but highly so in those of our friends. There are many

advantages too which men of upright character voluntarily forego, or

of which they are content to be deprived, that their friends may enjoy

them rather than themselves.

The second doctrine is that which limits friendship to an exact equality

in mutual good offices and good feelings. But such a view reduces

friendship to a question of figures in a spirit far too narrow and

illiberal, as though the object were to have an exact balance in

a debtor and creditor account. True friendship appears to me to be

something richer and more generous than that comes to; and not to be so

narrowly on its guard against giving more than it receives. In such a

matter we must not be always afraid of something being wasted or running

over in our measure, or of more than is justly due being devoted to our

friendship.

But the last limit proposed is the worst, namely, that a friend's

estimate of himself is to be the measure of our estimate of him. It

often happens that a man has too humble an idea of himself, or takes too

despairing a view of his chance of bettering his fortune. In such a case

a friend ought not to take the view of him which he takes of himself.

Rather he should do all he can to raise his drooping spirits, and lead

him to more cheerful hopes and thoughts.

We must then find some other limit. But I must first mention the

sentiment which used to call forth Scipio's severest criticism. He often

said that no one ever gave utterance to anything more diametrically

opposed to the spirit of friendship than the author of the dictum, "You

should love your friend with the consciousness that you may one day

hate him." He could not be induced to believe that it was rightfully

attributed to Bias, who was counted as one of the Seven Sages. It was

the sentiment of some person with sinister motives or selfish ambition,

or who regarded everything as it affected his own supremacy. How can a

man be friends with another, if he thinks it possible that he may be his

enemy? Why, it will follow that he must wish and desire his friend

to commit as many mistakes as possible, that he may have all the

more handles against him; and, conversely, that he must be annoyed,

irritated, and jealous at the right actions or good fortune of his

friends. This maxim, then, let it be whose it will, is the utter

destruction of friendship. The true rule is to take such care in the

selection of our friends as never to enter upon a friendship with a man

whom we could under any circumstances come to hate. And even if we are

unlucky in our choice, we must put up with it--according to Scipio--in

preference to making calculations as to a future breach.

17. The real limit to be observed in friendship is this: the characters

of two friends must be stainless. There must be complete harmony of

interests, purpose, and aims, without exception. Then if the case arises

of a friend's wish (not strictly right in itself) calling for support in

a matter involving his life or reputation, we must make some concession

from the straight path--on condition, that is to say, that extreme

disgrace is not the consequence. Something must be conceded to

friendship. And yet we must not be entirely careless of our reputation,

nor regard the good opinion of our fellow-citizens as a weapon which we

can afford to despise in conducting the business of our life, however

lowering it may be to tout for it by flattery and smooth words. We must

by no means abjure virtue, which secures us affection.

But to return again to Scipio, the sole author of the discourse on

friendship. He used to complain that there was nothing on which men

bestowed so little pains: that every one could tell exactly how many

goats or sheep he had, but not how many friends; and while they took

pains in procuring the former, they were utterly careless in selecting

friends, and possessed no particular marks, so to speak, or tokens by

which they might judge of their suitability for friendship. Now the

qualities we ought to look out for in making our selection are firmness,

stability, constancy. There is a plentiful lack of men so endowed, and

it is difficult to form a judgment without testing. Now this testing

can only be made during the actual existence of the friendship; for

friendship so often precedes the formation of a judgment, and makes a

previous test impossible. If we are prudent then, we shall rein in our

impulse to affection as we do chariot horses. We make a preliminary

trial of horses. So we should of friendship; and should test our

friends' characters by a kind of tentative friendship. It may often

happen that the untrustworthiness of certain men is completely displayed

in a small money matter; others who are proof against a small sum are

detected if it be large. But even if some are found who think it mean

to prefer money to friendship, where shall we look for those who put

friendship before office, civil or military promotions, and political

power, and who, when the choice lies between these things on the one

side and the claims of friendship on the other, do not give a strong

preference to the former? It is not in human nature to be indifferent

to political power; and if the price men have to pay for it is the

sacrifice of friendship, they think their treason will be thrown into

the shade by the magnitude of the reward. This is why true friendship

is very difficult to find among those who engage in politics and the

contest for office. Where can you find the man to prefer his friend's

advancement to his own? And to say nothing of that, think how grievous

and almost intolerable it is to most men to share political disaster.

You will scarcely find anyone who can bring himself to do that. And

though what Ennius says is quite true,--" the hour of need shews the

friend indeed,"--yet it is in these two ways that most people betray

their untrustworthiness and inconstancy, by looking down on friends when

they are themselves prosperous, or deserting them in their distress. A

man, then, who has shewn a firm, unshaken, and unvarying friendship in

both these contingencies we must reckon as one of a class the rarest in

the world, and all but superhuman.

18. Now, what is the quality to look out for as a warrant for the

stability and permanence of friendship? It is loyalty. Nothing that

lacks this can be stable. We should also in making our selection look

out for simplicity, a social disposition, and a sympathetic nature,

moved by what moves us. These all contribute to maintain loyalty.

You can never trust a character which is intricate and tortuous.

Nor, indeed, is it possible for one to be trustworthy and firm who is

unsympathetic by nature and unmoved by what affects ourselves. We may

add, that he must neither take pleasure in bringing accusations against

us himself, nor believe them when they are brought. All these contribute

to form that constancy which I have been endeavouring to describe.

And the result is, what I started by saying, that friendship is only

possible between good men.

Now there are two characteristic features in his treatment of his

friends that a good (which may be regarded as equivalent to a wise) man

will always display. First, he will be entirely without any make-believe

or pretence of feeling; for the open display even of dislike is

more becoming to an ingenuous character than a studied concealment of

sentiment. Secondly, he will not only reject all accusations brought

against his friend by another, but he will not be suspicious himself

either, nor be always thinking that his friend has acted improperly.

Besides this, there should be a certain pleasantness in word and

manner which adds no little flavour to friendship. A gloomy temper and

unvarying gravity may be very impressive; but friendship should be a

little less unbending, more indulgent and gracious, and more inclined to

all kinds of good-fellowship and good-nature.

19. But here arises a question of some little difficulty. Are there any

occasions on which, assuming their worthiness, we should prefer new to

old friends, just as we prefer young to aged horses? The answer admits

of no doubt whatever. For there should be no satiety in friendship, as

there is in other things. The older the sweeter, as in wines that keep

well. And the proverb is a true one, "You must eat many a peck of salt

with a man to be thorough friends with him." Novelty, indeed, has its

advantage, which we must not despise. There is always hope of fruit,

as there is in healthy blades of corn. But age too must have its proper

position; and, in fact, the influence of time and habit is very great.

To recur to the illustration of the horse which I have just now used.

Every one likes _ceteris paribus_ to use the horse to which he has been

accustomed, rather than one that is untried and new. And it is not

only in the case of a living thing that this rule holds good, but

in inanimate things also; for we like places where we have lived the

longest, even though they are mountainous and covered with forest. But

here is another golden rule in friendship: _put yourself on a level with

your friend_. For it often happens that there are certain superiorities,

as for example Scipio's in what I may call our set. Now he never assumed

any airs of superiority over Philus, or Rupilius, or Mummius, or

over friends of a lower rank still. For instance, he always shewed a

deference to his brother Quintus Maximus because he was his senior, who,

though a man no doubt of eminent character, was by no means his equal.

He used also to wish that all his friends should be the better for his

support. This is an example we should all follow. If any of us have any

advantage in personal character, intellect, or fortune, we should be

ready to make our friends sharers and partners in it with ourselves.

For instance, if their parents are in humble circumstances, if their

relations are powerful neither in intellect nor means, we should supply

their deficiencies and promote their rank and dignity. You know the

legends of children brought up as servants in ignorance of their

parentage and family. When they are recognized and discovered to be

the sons of gods or kings, they still retain their affection for the

shepherds whom they have for many years looked upon as their parents.

Much more ought this to be so in the case of real and undoubted parents.

For the advantages of genius and virtue, and in short, of every kind of

superiority, are never realized to their fullest extent until they are

bestowed upon our nearest and dearest.

20. But the converse must also be observed. For in friendship and

relationship, just as those who possess any superiority must put

themselves on an equal footing with those who are less fortunate, so

these latter must not be annoyed at being surpassed in genius, fortune,

or rank. But most people of that sort are forever either grumbling at

something, or harping on their claims; and especially if they consider

that they have services of their own to allege involving zeal and

friendship and some trouble to themselves. People who are always

bringing up their services are a nuisance. The recipient ought to

remember them; the performer should never mention them. In the case of

friends, then, as the superior are bound to descend, so are they bound

in a certain sense to raise those below them. For there are people who

make their friendship disagreeable by imagining themselves undervalued.

This generally happens only to those who think that they deserve to

be so; and they ought to be shewn by deeds as well as by words the

groundlessness of their opinion. Now the measure of your benefits should

be in the first place your own power to bestow, and in the second place

the capacity to bear them on the part of him on whom you are bestowing

affection and help. For, however great your personal prestige may be,

you cannot raise all your friends to the highest offices of the State.

For instance, Scipio was able to make Publius Rupilius consul, but not

his brother Lucius. But granting that you can give anyone anything you

choose, you must have a care that it does not prove to be beyond his

powers. As a general rule, we must wait to make up our mind about

friendships till men's characters and years have arrived at their full

strength and development. People must not, for instance, regard as fast

friends all whom in their youthful enthusiasm for hunting or football

they liked for having the same tastes. By that rule, if it were a mere

question of time, no one would have such claims on our affections as

nurses and slave-tutors. Not that they are to be neglected, but they

stand on a different ground. It is only these mature friendships that

can be permanent. For difference of character leads to difference of

aims, and the result of such diversity is to estrange friends. The sole

reason, for instance, which prevents good men from making friends with

bad, or bad with good, is that the divergence of their characters and

aims is the greatest possible.

Another good rule in friendship is this: do not let an excessive

affection hinder the highest interests of your friends. This very

often happens. I will go again to the region of fable for an instance.

Neoptolemus could never have taken Troy if he had been willing to listen

to Lycomedes, who had brought him up, and with many tears tried to

prevent his going there. Again, it often happens that important business

makes it necessary to part from friends: the man who tries to baulk it,

because he thinks that he cannot endure the separation, is of a weak

and effeminate nature, and on that very account makes but a poor friend.

There are, of course, limits to what you ought to expect from a friend

and to what you should allow him to demand of you. And these you must

take into calculation in every case.

21. Again, there is such a disaster, so to speak, as having to break off

friendship. And sometimes it is one we cannot avoid. For at this point

the stream of our discourse is leaving the intimacies of the wise and

touching on the friendship of ordinary people. It will happen at times

that an outbreak of vicious conduct affects either a man's friends

themselves or strangers, yet the discredit falls on the friends. In

such cases friendships should be allowed to die out gradually by an

intermission of intercourse. They should, as I have been told that Cato

used to say, rather be unstitched than torn in twain; unless, indeed,

the injurious conduct be of so violent and outrageous a nature as

to make an instant breach and separation the only possible course

consistent with honour and rectitude. Again, if a change in character

and aim takes place, as often happens, or if party politics produces an

alienation of feeling (I am now speaking, as I said a short time ago, of

ordinary friendships, not of those of the wise), we shall have to be on

our guard against appearing to embark upon active enmity while we only

mean to resign a friendship. For there can be nothing more discreditable

than to be at open war with a man with whom you have been intimate.

Scipio, as you are aware, had abandoned his friendship for Quintus

Pompeius on my account; and again, from differences of opinion in

politics, he became estranged from my colleague Metellus. In both cases

he acted with dignity and moderation, shewing that he was offended

indeed, but without rancour.

Our first object, then, should be to prevent a breach; our second, to

secure that, if it does occur, our friendship should seem to have died

a natural rather than a violent death. Next, we should take care that

friendship is not converted into active hostility, from which flow

personal quarrels, abusive language, and angry recriminations. These

last, however, provided that they do not pass all reasonable limits

of forbearance, we ought to put up with, and, in compliment to an old

friendship, allow the party that inflicts the injury, not the one that

submits to it, to be in the wrong. Generally speaking, there is but one

way of securing and providing oneself against faults and inconveniences

of this sort--not to be too hasty in bestowing our affection, and not to

bestow it at all on unworthy objects.

Now, by "worthy of friendship" I mean those who have in themselves the

qualities which attract affection. This sort of man is rare; and indeed

all excellent things are rare; and nothing in the world is so hard to

find as a thing entirely and completely perfect of its kind. But most

people not only recognize nothing as good in our life unless it is

profitable, but look upon friends as so much stock, caring most for

those by whom they hope to make most profit. Accordingly they never

possess that most beautiful and most spontaneous friendship which must

be sought solely for itself without any ulterior object. They fail

also to learn from their own feelings the nature and the strength of

friendship. For every one loves himself, not for any reward which such

love may bring, but because he is dear to himself independently of

anything else. But unless this feeling is transferred to another, what

a real friend is will never be revealed; for he is, as it were, a

second self. But if we find these two instincts shewing themselves in

animals,--whether of the air or the sea or the land, whether wild or

tame,--first, a love of self, which in fact is born in everything that

lives alike; and, secondly, an eagerness to find and attach themselves

to other creatures of their own kind; and if this natural action is

accompanied by desire and by something resembling human love, how much

more must this be the case in man by the law of his nature? For man not

only loves himself, but seeks another whose spirit he may so blend with

his own as almost to make one being of two.

22. But most people unreasonably, not to speak of modesty, want such

a friend as they are unable to be themselves, and expect from their

friends what they do not themselves give. The fair course is first to be

good yourself, and then to look out for another of like character. It

is between such that the stability in friendship of which we have been

talking can be secured; when, that is to say, men who are united by

affection learn, first of all, to rule those passions which enslave

others, and in the next place to take delight in fair and equitable

conduct, to bear each other's burdens, never to ask each other for

anything inconsistent with virtue and rectitude, and not only to serve

and love but also to respect each other. I say "respect"; for if respect

is gone, friendship has lost its brightest jewel. And this shows the

mistake of those who imagine that friendship gives a privilege to

licentiousness and sin. Nature has given us friendship as the handmaid

of virtue, not as a partner in guilt: to the end that virtue, being

powerless when isolated to reach the highest objects, might succeed in

doing so in union and partnership with another. Those who enjoy in the

present, or have enjoyed in the past, or are destined to enjoy in the

future such a partnership as this, must be considered to have secured

the most excellent and auspicious combination for reaching nature's

highest good. This is the partnership, I say, which combines moral

rectitude, fame, peace of mind, serenity: all that men think desirable

because with them life is happy, but without them cannot be so. This

being our best and highest object, we must, if we desire to attain it,

devote ourselves to virtue; for without virtue we can obtain neither

friendship nor anything else desirable. In fact, if virtue be neglected,

those who imagine themselves to possess friends will find out their

error as soon as some grave disaster forces them to make trial of them.

Wherefore, I must again and again repeat, you must satisfy your judgment

before engaging your affections: not love first and judge afterwards. We

suffer from carelessness in many of our undertakings: in none more than

in selecting and cultivating our friends. We put the cart before the

horse, and shut the stable door when the steed is stolen, in defiance

of the old proverb. For, having mutually involved ourselves in a

long-standing intimacy or by actual obligations, all on a sudden some

cause of offence arises and we break off our friendships in full career.

23. It is this that makes such carelessness in a matter of supreme

importance all the more worthy of blame. I say "supreme importance,"

because friendship is the one thing about the utility of which everybody

with one accord is agreed. That is not the case in regard even to virtue

itself; for many people speak slightingly of virtue as though it were

mere puffing and self-glorification. Nor is it the case with riches.

Many look down on riches, being content with a little and taking

pleasure in poor fare and dress, And as to the political offices for

which some have a burning desire--how many entertain such a contempt

for them as to think nothing in the world more empty and trivial!

And so on with the rest; things desirable in the eyes of some are

regarded by very many as worthless. But of friendship all think alike to

a man, whether those have devoted themselves to politics, or those who

delight in science and philosophy, or those who follow a private way of

life and care for nothing but their own business, or those lastly who

have given themselves body and soul to sensuality--they all think, I

say, that without friendship life is no life, if they want some part

of it, at any rate, to be noble. For friendship, in one way or another,

penetrates into the lives of us all, and suffers no career to be

entirely free from its influence. Though a man be of so churlish and

unsociable a nature as to loathe and shun the company of mankind, as we

are told was the case with a certain Timon at Athens, yet even he cannot

refrain from seeking some one in whose hearing he may disgorge the

venom of his bitter temper. We should see this most clearly, if it were

possible that some god should carry us away from these haunts of men,

and place us somewhere in perfect solitude, and then should supply us in

abundance with everything necessary to our nature, and yet take from us

entirely the opportunity of looking upon a human being. Who could steel

himself to endure such a life? Who would not lose in his loneliness the

zest for all pleasures? And indeed this is the point of the observation

of, I think, Archytas of Tarentum. I have it third hand; men who were my

seniors told me that their seniors had told them. It was this: "If a man

could ascend to heaven and get a clear view of the natural order of

the universe, and the beauty of the heavenly bodies, that wonderful

spectacle would give him small pleasure, though nothing could be

conceived more delightful if he had but had some one to whom to tell

what he had seen." So true it is that nature abhors isolation, and ever

leans upon something as a stay and support; and this is found in its

most pleasing form in our closest friend.

24. But though Nature also declares by so many indications what her wish

and object and desire is, we yet in a manner turn a deaf ear and will

not hear her warnings. The intercourse between friends is varied and

complex, and it must often happen that causes of suspicion and offence

arise, which a wise man will sometimes avoid, at other times remove,

at others treat with indulgence. The one possible cause of offence

that must be faced is when the interests of your friend and your own

sincerity are at stake. For instance, it often happens that friends need

remonstrance and even reproof. When these are administered in a kindly

spirit they ought to be taken in good part. But somehow or other there

is truth in what my friend Terence says in his _Andria_:

Compliance gets us friends, plain speaking hate.

Plain speaking is a cause of trouble, if the result of it is resentment,

which is poison of friendship; but compliance is really the cause of

much more trouble, because by indulging his faults it lets a friend

plunge into headlong ruin. But the man who is most to blame is he who

resents plain speaking and allows flattery to egg him on to his ruin. On

this point, then, from first to last there is need of deliberation and

care. If we remonstrate, it should be without bitterness; if we reprove,

there should be no word of insult. In the matter of compliance (for I

am glad to adopt Terence's word), though there should be every courtesy,

yet that base kind which assists a man in vice should be far from us,

for it is unworthy of a free-born man, to say nothing of a friend. It is

one thing to live with a tyrant, another with a friend. But if a man's

ears are so closed to plain speaking that he cannot bear to hear the

truth from a friend, we may give him up in despair. This remark of

Cato's, as so many of his did, shews great acuteness: "There are people

who owe more to bitter enemies than to apparently pleasant friends:

the former often speak the truth, the latter never." Besides, it is a

strange paradox that the recipients of advice should feel no annoyance

where they ought to feel it, and yet feel so much where they ought not.

They are not at all vexed at having committed a fault, but very angry at

being reproved for it. On the contrary, they ought to be grieved at the

crime and glad of the correction.

25. Well, then, if it is true that to give and receive advice--the

former with freedom and yet without bitterness, the latter with patience

and without irritation--is peculiarly appropriate to genuine friendship,

it is no less true that there can be nothing more utterly subversive of

friendship than flattery, adulation, and base compliance. I use as many

terms as possible to brand this vice of light-minded, untrustworthy men,

whose sole object in speaking is to please without any regard to truth.

In everything false pretence is bad, for it suspends and vitiates our

power of discerning the truth. But to nothing it is so hostile as to

friendship; for it destroys that frankness without which friendship is

an empty name. For the essence of friendship being that two minds become

as one, how can that ever take place if the mind of each of the separate

parties to it is not single and uniform, but variable, changeable, and

complex? Can anything be so pliable, so wavering, as the mind of a man

whose attitude depends not only on another's feeling and wish, but on

his very looks and nods?

If one says "No," I answer "No";

If "Yes," I answer "Yes."

In fine, I've laid this task upon myself

To echo all that's said--

to quote my old friend Terence again. But he puts these words into the mouth of

a Gnatho. To admit such a man into one's intimacy at all is a sign of

folly. But there are many people like Gnatho, and it is when they

are superior either in position or fortune or reputation that their

flatteries become mischievous, the weight of their position making up

for the lightness of their character. But if we only take reasonable

care, it is as easy to separate and distinguish a genuine from a

specious friend as anything else that is coloured and artificial from

what is sincere and genuine. A public assembly, though composed of men

of the smallest possible culture, nevertheless will see clearly

the difference between a mere demagogue (that is, a flatterer and

untrustworthy citizen) and a man of principle, standing, and solidity.

It was by this kind of flattering language that Gaius Papirius the

other day endeavoured to tickle the ears of the assembled people, when

proposing his law to make the tribunes re-eligible. I spoke against it.

But I will leave the personal question. I prefer speaking of Scipio.

Good heavens! how impressive his speech was, what a majesty there was

in it! You would have pronounced him, without hesitation, to be no mere

henchman of the Roman people, but their leader. However, you were there,

and moreover have the speech in your hands. The result was that a law

meant to please the people was by the people's votes rejected. Once

more to refer to myself, you remember how apparently popular was the law

proposed by Gaius Licinius Crassus "about the election to the College

of Priests" in the consulship of Quintus Maximus, Scipio's brother, and

Lucius Mancinus. For the power of filling up their own vacancies on

the part of the colleges was by this proposal to be transferred to the

people. It was this man, by the way, who began the practice of turning

towards the forum when addressing the people. In spite of this, however,

upon my speaking on the conservative side, religion gained an easy

victory over his plausible speech. This took place in my praetorship,

five years before I was elected consul, which shows that the cause

was successfully maintained more by the merits of the case than by the

prestige of the highest office.

26. Now, if on a stage, such as a public assembly essentially is,

where there is the amplest room for fiction and half-truths, truth

nevertheless prevails if it be but fairly laid open and brought into

the light of day, what ought to happen in the case of friendship, which

rests entirely on truthfulness? Friendship, in which, unless you both

see and show an open breast, to use a common expression, you can neither

trust nor be certain of anything--no, not even of mutual affection,

since you cannot be sure of its sincerity. However, this flattery,

injurious as it is, can hurt no one but the man who takes it in and

likes it. And it follows that the man to open his ears widest to

flatterers is he who first flatters himself and is fondest of himself. I

grant you that Virtue naturally loves herself; for she knows herself

and perceives how worthy of love she is. But I am not now speaking of

absolute virtue, but of the belief men have that they possess virtue.

The fact is that fewer people are endowed with virtue than wish to be

thought to be so. It is such people that take delight in flattery.

When they are addressed in language expressly adapted to flatter their

vanity, they look upon such empty persiflage as a testimony to the truth

of their own praises. It is not then properly friendship at all when the

one will not listen to the truth, and the other is prepared to lie. Nor

would the servility of parasites in comedy have seemed humorous to us

had there been no such things as braggart captains. "Is Thais really

much obliged to me?" It would have been quite enough to answer "Much,"

but he must needs say "Immensely." Your servile flatterer always

exaggerates what his victim wishes to be put strongly. Wherefore,

though it is with those who catch at and invite it that this flattering

falsehood is especially powerful, yet men even of soldier and steadier

character must be warned to be on the watch against being taken in by

cunningly disguised flattery. An open flatterer any one can detect,

unless he is an absolute fool the covert insinuation of the cunning

and the sly is what we have to be studiously on our guard against. His

detection is not by any means the easiest thing in the world, for

he often covers his servility under the guise of contradiction, and

flatters by pretending to dispute, and then at last giving in and

allowing himself to be beaten, that the person hoodwinked may think

himself to have been the clearer-sighted. Now what can be more degrading

than to be thus hoodwinked? You must be on your guard against this

happening to you, like the man in the _Heiress_:

How have I been befooled! no drivelling dotards

On any stage were e'er so p1ayed upon.

For even on the stage we have no grosser representation of folly than

that of short-sighted and credulous old men. But somehow or other I have

strayed away from the friendship of the perfect, that is of the "wise"

(meaning, of course, such "wisdom" as human nature is capable of), to

the subject of vulgar, unsubstantial friendships. Let us then return to

our original theme, and at length bring that, too, to a conclusion.

27. Well, then, Fannius and Mucius, I repeat what I said before. It

is virtue, virtue, which both creates and preserves friendship. On

it depends harmony of interest, permanence, fidelity. When Virtue has

reared her head and shewn the light of her countenance, and seen and

recognised the same light in another, she gravitates towards it, and in

her turn welcomes that which the other has to shew; and from it springs

up a flame which you may call love or friendship as you please. Both

words are from the same root in Latin; and love is just the cleaving

to him whom you love without the prompting of need or any view to

advantage--though this latter blossoms spontaneously on friendship,

little as you may have looked for it. It is with such warmth of feeling

that I cherished Lucius Paulus, Marcus Cato, Galus Gallus, Publius

Nasica, Tiberius Gracchus, my dear Scipio's father-in-law. It shines

with even greater warmth when men are of the same age, as in the case of

Scipio and Lucius Furius, Publius Rupilius, Spurius Mummius, and myself.

_En revanche_, in my old age I find comfort in the affection of young

men, as in the case of yourselves and Quintus Tubero: nay more, I

delight in the intimacy of such a very young man as Publius Rutilius and

Aulus Verginius. And since the law of our nature and of our life is that

a new generation is for ever springing up, the most desirable thing is

that along with your contemporaries, with whom you started in the

race, you may also teach what is to us the goal. But in view of

the instability and perishableness of mortal things, we should be

continually on the look-out for some to love and by whom to be loved;

for if we lose affection and kindliness from our life, we lose all that

gives it charm. For me, indeed, though torn away by a sudden stroke,

Scipio still lives and ever wilt live. For it was the virtue of the man

that I loved, and that has not suffered death. And it is not my eyes

only, because I had all my life a personal experience of it, that never

lose sight of it: it will shine to posterity also with undimmed glory.

No one will ever cherish a nobler ambition or a loftier hope without

thinking his memory and his image the best to put before his eyes. I

declare that of all the blessings which either fortune or nature has

bestowed upon me I know none to compare with Scipio's friendship. In

it I found sympathy in public, counsel in private business; in it too a

means of spending my leisure with unalloyed delight. Never, to the best

of my knowledge, did I offend him even in the most trivial point; never

did I hear a word from him I could have wished unsaid. We had one house,

one table, one style of living; and not only were we together on foreign

service, but in our tours also and country sojourns. Why speak of

our eagerness to be ever gaining some knowledge, to be ever learning

something, on which we spent all our leisure hours far from the gaze of

the world? If the recollection and memory of these things had perished

with the man, I could not possibly have endured the regret for one so

closely united with me in life and affection. But these things have not

perished; they are rather fed and strengthened by reflexion and memory.

Even supposing me to have been entirely bereft of them, still my time

of life of itself brings me no small consolation: for I cannot have much

longer now to bear this regret; and everything that is brief ought to be

endurable, however severe.

This is all I had to say on friendship. One piece of advice on parting.

Make up your minds to this. Virtue (without which friendship is

impossible) is first; but next to it, and to it alone, the greatest of

all things is Friendship.